


On Time

by omoshira



Category: 1D - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, One Direction Imagines, Panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omoshira/pseuds/omoshira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You travel with Harry as he embarks on his 1st world tour with the boys. Time together is an amazing experience and you find all of it to be such a thrill. You provide a calming presence for Harry that nobody else on the road seems to fill. So how is Harry expected to function as one of their biggest shows to date is set to begin and you are nowhere to be found 30 minutes before the boys are called to stage?</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Time

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit” you repeat to yourself frantically as you throw an outfit on and rush your way out of the hotel room. 

Hair a mess and your purse sloppily slung over your shoulder, you make a beeline for the elevator, hoping nobody would see you. You walk quickly, the carpet of the hotel’s floor absorbing your steps. A man, considerably older than you are, is already in the elevator and sees you in a rush. You make eye contact and he flashes you a smile as you watch him reach over for a button that delays the elevator’s doors. 

“Thank you so much,” you say as you step inside, attempting to fix your hair and catch your breath.

“In a rush?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, searching for sunglasses in your purse.

You press the button for the 1st floor and anxiously wait as the elevator begins to descend. You had planned to take a small nap before the show, the jet lag having gotten to you. You felt as if you were safe to do so since the boys’ show had about 5 hours before it was set to start. However, you didn’t plan on being so exhausted that you’d sleep through your alarm. 

“So what are you out here for?” you say as you attempt to make conversation while fishing for your compact mirror.

“Business, you?”

You have to contemplate your response as you genuinely do not know how to reply. You came here to support your boyfriend Harry, a member of a wildly successful international boy band, He also suffered from a crippling anxiety of large crowds and refused to ever take the stage without having a moment with you first. You felt uncomfortable of the idea at first, being the only girl on the road with the boys, but you knew he needed you there more than anything.

“Uh, business,” you finally said, bouncing on your feet as you felt the elevator come to a stop on the 8th floor.

You felt the buzz of your cell phone and you knew that was management, contacting you in absolute panic because of your absence. This wasn’t like you to miss a show. Normally you’d be at the venue the same time as the boys, as you liked the environment of the crew setting up stage, making the empty stadium come alive with their handy work, but you were absolutely exhausted this time and couldn’t help but take a snooze. 

“Where in the hell are you??” the text read.

You hastily compose a reply. “On my way.”

“The show starts in less than 5 minutes.”

“I know I know,” you write back as another lady, old enough to be your mother, enters the space.

“Hello!” she said, her voice chipper.

“Hello,” you and the man say in unison, a tinge of panic in your voice.

The lady smelled strongly of perfume and you scoot toward the wall to avoid being choked by the scent of her. Your head was spinning. You knew Harry couldn’t go on stage without speaking to you first. That was one of the main reasons you decided to join him on tour, to help with his anxiety. You not only felt a sense of embarrassment on your behalf, but also a sense of worry for him. The lady pushes the button for the 6th floor and you resist the urge to angrily sigh or scream. 

Your phone buzzes again and you refrain from looking at it, knowing that it would lead to nothing more but panic and frustration. You feel the elevator descend only for it to stop a second after. The elevator door opens and you wait for the lady to exit but, to your confusion, she doesn’t. You say nothing, knowing that if you open your mouth you might say something you’d regret in your haste. All of you stand in the elevator in silence. Your phone buzzes again and you look at the time. The show would be opening in 25 minutes.

“Ooooooh,” you hear the lady say, “I think they meant the 4th floor, not the 6th. I must’ve gotten it wrong. Silly me!”

You watch as the elevator doors close again, sealing you inside. You resist the urge to rudely press the “OPEN” button even though every fiber in your being desperately wanted to tear the space between the metal doors open. You clench your fists and bite your tongue as the elevator begins to ascend, butterflies attacking your stomach as you watch the digital number go up. It feels like a million years as the elevator dings, finally making it to the 4th floor. The doors open and the elevator is met with silence again.

“Oh heavens! They meant the 6th floor after all!”

“I’m getting off here,” you say as you rush out, nearly tripping over your own feet as you begin to take off into a sprint.

You find the stairs and are thankful at the fact that you chose a pair of flats and not your usual heels. Your phone continues to go off as you run down the steps, hand hovering over the handrail. You checked the time. You had less than 15 minutes. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit,” you said to yourself as you ran out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk. There were crowds of people walking about and the streets were littered with idle cars. You walk to the edge of the curb, anxiously searching for a taxi. Your phone starts to vibrate and you look at it, discovering that you’re getting a call.

“Yes? Hello? I just got out the TAXI! TAXI! SHIT! I just got out of the lobby, I’m really really sorry” you say, distressed.

“We’re sending a van over to get you, don’t move,” the woman on the other line says sternly.

Your heart rate has elevated considerably and you feel as if your heart if going to burst out of your chest and into open traffic as you wait. You check your phone periodically, panic rising as time goes by. The van finally arrives and it swings hastily in front of you, almost hitting the parked cars and halting traffic. You see one of the crew swing the door open.

“Get in!” he shouts at you.

You quickly dive into the side of the van, the vehicle taking off before you have an opportunity to put your seat belt on. 

“What in the hell took you so long!?” the man yelled.

“I was asleep! My fucking bad!”

“You better believe it’s your bad. Harry is having a fit because of you!”

You want nothing more than to chew this man out. You understand his position and you understand the urgency of it all but you wanted nothing more than to yell back, to give him a piece of your mind for aggravating you while you were in an already panicked state. You take a deep breath, realizing that no amount of arguing would make you arrive faster. Your pulse seemed to move at supersonic speed as you leaned back in your seat, biting your nails. The driver pulled into the back lot of the venue and you could see crowds of girls waiting by the gates. It wasn’t long until you heard the excited screaming and saw the bright flashes of cameras go off. As soon as the van pulled into the lot you threw your shades on and sprinted into the building.

You run toward the 1st door you see and swing it open. A long, empty corridor meets you and you can hear the stadium rumbling with the sound of the waiting fans. You run through the corridor and turn left at the end of it, finding another corridor that led to different paths at its sides. There were doors everywhere and you felt tears in your eyes as you started to feel nauseous from your panic. You see a woman walk by with a walkie-talkie and you grab her by the shoulders.

“Where is he!? Where is Harry!?” you shout at her as your voice breaks at the end of your sentence.

“Who are you? Are you supposed to be back here?” she says as she pushes you off of her.

Before you can reply she backs away from you and puts the device at her mouth.

“Security I’m going to need you to report to the main corridor now. There appears to be a fan who has broken in. Security, do you copy?” she says, keeping an eye on you as you begin to feel tears running down your face.

“Roger that, on my way,” you hear a voice erupt from the communicator.

It wasn’t long until you saw the big security guard dressed in all black appear. It wouldn’t take much effort for him to sling you over his shoulder and toss you back out. You begin to compile an explanation in you brain, but in your state of panic you find yourself at a loss for words. But to your relief, you look at him and you realize that his face is familiar, you’ve seen him before and you’re sure he remembers you. You hadn’t been on tour long, but you had been around long enough to make friends with some of the staff that traveled along with the crew.

“I don’t know how this girl got in, but I need you to deal with this. Now,” the woman says and she runs off.

“Oh shit you’re here” the guard says and your heartbeat races. 

“Yes, yes, please —just please— take me to him, please please please,” you say as your panic begins to translate into sobs.

“Come with me,” and he takes you by the arm, leading you down a path.

There were personnel running about, panicked. You heard a man yell into his radio, obviously stressed by his workload. It seems that your absence created more problems than you had thought. You find yourself at a stop in front of a door. On the door itself was a plaque labeled “TALENT.” The guard opens the door for you and lets you in as you discover that room was a dressing room.

You walk in to discover that the room is empty. The lights on the mirrors were switched on and there appeared to be makeup and a few water bottles in front of them. The boys must’ve been placed in the room to be prepared for the show, but they were gone now. Clothes were strewn across the ground and you could see a lamp seems to have been knocked over. None of this mattered to you. The only thing on your mind was finding Harry and an empty dressing room did nothing to make you feel better about the situation.

“Over here,” you hear the guard say.

On a small couch in the corner of the room, you see him. Harry, sitting silently, dressed and made up but looking blankly at the wall in front of him.

“Harry?” you say as you approach him.

He looks up, his face lighting up as he comes to the realization that you had arrived. He is instantly up on his feet, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

“I thought you’d never come,” you hear him say, his voice shaking.

“I’m here, I’m here,” you say, rubbing his back.

“They had to send the boys out without me.”

“You have to get out there,” you say, pulling away from him, “You have to, it wouldn’t be right for the show.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice trailing off.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I had you worried and upset-”

Your words are interrupted as he takes your face in both hands and pulls you into him, your lips making contact. Your heart skips a beat as you find yourself taken completely by surprise. You put your arms behind his head as you allow yourself to be taken in by the kiss, losing yourself to the closeness and warmth of holding Harry. 

He pulls away from you, holding you in a grip of eye contact as he speaks.

“Promise me you’ll never leave,” he says, his voice earnest.

“I promise,” you say, smiling, “Now get out there. You have everyone worried.”

He smiles back and hugs you tight before making his way out.

“See you after the show,” he says at the doorway.

“See you after the show,” you say back as you watch him close the door.

You take a place on the couch, lying down as you feel a wave of relief wash over you. You had made it to Harry, and everything was going to be okay. You let out a content sigh, thankful that things didn’t end up worse than they could have. You stare at the ceiling, letting your mind wander. You feel and hear the roar of the crowd rumble the room and you know Harry’s made it to stage. You smile and roll over to your side, hugging one of the couch’s pillows against your body.

“Sorry I’m late!” you hear Harry’s voice through the walls.

You hear the roaring of the crowd again and you find yourself completely drained from your panicked adventure. The beginning of a song shakes and you find yourself drifting off to the rhythmic vibrations.

“Go get ‘em babe,” you say, as you fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this short little 1-shot that I wrote a friend! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!


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